


Angel Dough on The Almighty’s Worktop

by ivyblossom



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Artisanal Angels, Aziraphale's penis, First Person Narrative, Handcrafted penises, M/M, The Ineffable Plan is probably a love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22044427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyblossom/pseuds/ivyblossom
Summary: Angels don't have genitalia by nature, but they can put in the effort and create some. Aziraphale put in the effort. He put in a lot of effort. Perhaps too much effort. Crowley's energy go more towards understanding the potential of human, demonic, and angelic sexuality, and how Aziraphale's ability to revel in pleasure shapes his. Eventually, they meet somewhere in the middle. Perhaps that was the Ineffable Plan all along.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 65
Kudos: 175





	Angel Dough on The Almighty’s Worktop

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Treetart for the late night beta read, for the support, advice, and for the title. Until Treetart usefully intervened, this fic had the working title of "Aziraphale and his Penis." and let that be a warning to you about the volume of Aziraphale penis content in this fic. It's a lot. Aziraphale's penis is basically a character in this fic, is what I'm saying. You have been warned.

As is well known to all with awareness of such things, celestial beings do not have genitalia. 

None of God’s immortal creations need them, of course; angels do not reproduce. Obviously. The very concept of independent reproduction hadn’t been put into practice when the host of heaven first came into being. I wouldn’t want to be so bold as to suggest that the idea of sexuality hadn’t crossed God’s mind before She created the various classes, clades, and choirs.That would be presumptuous. But She kept the fully fledged versions of the organs of reproduction for the mortal world where they serve a considered, functional purpose.

There weren’t meant to be any more than twenty million angels, which, of course, got halved after the Lucifer-and-the-guys debacle. She never intended angels, or demons, to create any more beings on their own, and given how things went, I think that was a wise limitation to impose. She certainly saw it all coming.

But you can’t deny that angels and demons are capable of exploring the idea of sexual congress in spite of that. Non-reproductively. If they so wish. I certainly can’t deny it. Well, I _can,_ but not without being dishonest with you. Which I’m completely willing to do, by the way, so keep that in mind. 

Angels can give themselves any genital configuration they wish, and they can explore sexuality all they like, with whomever they like. If they want to. Including with each other. I know that from first hand experience.

But not in their natural form, of course. Not without the benefit of the order and physical limitations of the created universe. Just the four simple dimensions, leaving aside the next eighteen. Any other way, multiple sets of wings would get tangled, for a start, and no one really wants a retina rubbing up against a burst of purifying flame, or a patch of feathers, or a blast of neodymium gas right in a tender boson-sensing organ. The logistics of it are just...well, I don’t want to say _ill-considered_ , but let’s say a friendly blow job between angelic friends clearly wasn’t in the body plan when it was first drafted. 

And where on a Wheel do you imagine an organ of pleasure might be best placed? (Or glandular configuration of pleasure, or skeletal musculature of pleasure, no judgements on those preferences from this quarter, I assure you.) And engaging with a body part designed for physical pleasure would require a degree of flexibility that no Throne I’ve ever met would be open to exploring, let’s put it that way. No. Angels weren’t really created with any of this _mutual or collective physical pleasure_ in mind. Except that in some ways, they sort of were.

And that’s my point. That’s what I wanted to tell you. In some ways, and I recognize there’s a hint of blasphemy in saying it, but what the hell, I’m already damned: in some ways, angels are drafts. God’s doodles, if you will. Explorations in concepts that would emerge later, functionally, in mortal beings. Angels are half-baked thoughts and possibilities in living form. They contain some elements and notions that shouldn’t, and sometimes physically _can’t,_ be there, but somehow are. 

We aren’t meant to notice, comment on, or act on these things. Most angels will absolutely deny any of this if you asked them, they will raise a perfectly-threaded eyebrow and be aghast that you even deigned to mention it, the self-important bastards, but I can tell you it’s true. It’s obviously true. 

Look at Lucifer, for a start. Look at me. Look at Aziraphale’s penis. Well, if he’ll show it to you. Which he very well might, if you asked him nicely, under the right conditions. Please don’t, though, it would be terribly embarrassing for all of us, and the last time a group of humans got a good look at it, Sandalphon ended up turning people into pillars of salt, so let’s not go through all that again. 

There’s something else in angels, in the stuff of some of them, anyway, that’s a little off side.

Before the creation of the universe, when there was only the heavenly expanse, and time itself was a whizgig clockworking around on the floor with no aim or purpose, God got to work making angels. Each one, one by one. Humans are born individually; angels are made individually, like artisanal, elaborate, intelligent, complicated, winged biscuits.

Aziraphale likes biscuits.

When God made angels, She must to have had other ideas swirling around in her Divine Brain Box. That’s my theory, anyway. _What might become of an angel left to its own devices,_ She must have wondered as she put Gabriel together. If you are an all-powerful, all-knowing being, the only one around for trillions of miles as far as anyone can tell, you must start to wonder what it would be like to create beings you can’t control, who were willing to defy you. She must have thought about that while putting a set of horns on Lucifer’s head. _What would a creature who enjoyed causing pain and suffering be like?_ She’d have thought, creating Hastur. _What about an angel with a big heart who revels in pleasure and joy in creation,_ she must have thought, crafting Aziraphale’s beautiful hands, his love of tartan, and his capacity to drop everything for a spot of lunch. And when she made me, I can only imagine that she was wondering what it would be like if she made a creature who wouldn’t be able to resist a cheeky drink, asks too many of the wrong questions, could Fall without really meaning to, and who would love an angel with his whole being, in every dimension, for all time. She must have thought about it. Because here I am.

That’s how I make sense of it, anyway. Because what we know for sure is that none of us can be what we are if she didn’t make us that way. She didn’t make _us_ to surprise her. That’s what your kind are for. 

Can God create a boulder so heavy She cannot lift it? That’s an easy one: of course not. 

Who ever came up with that question didn’t understand that the weight of things is dependent not on the size of the object, but the strength of the gravity well in which it finds itself. It’s about creating a universe, not a boulder. God can create a universe where anything is possible, so there will never be a boulder she cannot lift, if she decides to make it in a universe without gravity.

More interestingly, to my mind: can God create beings She can’t control, beings who are creative in their own right, who can do things She couldn’t anticipate? Can God create beings who can surprise Her? 

Probably not, let’s be honest. But it’s complicated, isn’t it. She can get around the boulder question by creating a universe for a boulder she chooses to never try to lift, leaving it an open question. She can create intelligent beings with free will who can combine the stuff of which they’re made in infinite combinations, and She can choose not to control the outcome. The billions of variables would combine and recombine without her intervention and provide the illusion of novelty, at the very least. Close enough, I’d say. As good as? Humans certainly surprise me, I can tell you. All the time.

So, as I was saying: angels don’t have genitalia, and angels weren’t made with sex drives. But for some reason, that doesn’t mean an enterprising angel can’t miracle up some of both under the right circumstances, should said angel be so inclined. And if said angel were so inclined, you’d know that the Almighty most certainly had something to do with that.

The first time it occurred to me that genitalia and sex drives might be something for us to consider, it was the very beginning.

After the apple incident, once Adam and Eve were on their way and Aziraphale and I had formally met, he asked about the apples. He wanted to know if I knew what they tasted like. 

It had been his job to guard them. He hadn’t dared a cheeky taste test, though he’d been wanting a nibble from the start. Honestly, it hadn’t occurred to me. He’s always been the one with the stronger appetites. It makes him curious in certain specific ways, which is always an intriguing path to follow along on, I must say. Obviously we already possessed the knowledge of good and evil, being the incorporated embodiment of both, so we didn’t see any harm in giving them a try. The Almighty hadn’t forbidden _us_ from eating them, after all. And they certainly smelled nice. I only noticed that once Aziraphale pointed it out. 

Once you notice something so appetizing just sitting there, smelling so nice, it’s difficult to ignore.

I picked an apple and held it out for him. It made sense to me that he would go first, it had been his idea. He didn’t take it from me. He leaned forward and bit into it. 

Keep in mind, there weren’t any etiquette rules about that sort of thing at the time, and all the other creatures in the garden didn’t generally eat with their hands, so it didn’t seem strange. It was Eden, and fruit was perfect and always ripe, so it was a juicy, crisp, beautiful apple. His eyes went all wide and he groaned in bliss after that first bite. A bit of the juice dripped down my arm, and Aziraphale licked it from my wrist.

That was when it first occurred to me that mutual pleasure-seeking might be something we had been designed to at least consider, because I was considering it. Of course it might have come along with my demonic transition (for some reason lust is considered a sin, don’t ask me, I had nothing to do with it), but it clearly wasn’t just me. At the time it wasn’t about genitals, though. For either of us. That came later.

From a functional standpoint, however, it wasn’t very long after we tasted the apples that we realized that we were going to need some other biological mechanisms in order to properly process earthly nourishment, so we both tweaked our hitherto ornamental digestive systems and gave them end points. 

Why do angels and demons even _have_ ornamental digestive systems? You can tell that She saw it all coming, but of course She would.

We had a brief conversation at the time about our corporations needing to be as human-looking as possible, so as to blend in, so we added some basic plumbing in line with what the humans were equipped with. Two birds with one stone, really. It seemed like the right thing to do. 

We both chose penises. I’m not sure why. I suppose we thought of our gender in grammatical terms, and we both used the pronoun “he”. Possibly it was connected to the fact that Eve got pregnant quite suddenly, and that looks a bit scary the first time you see it, quite frankly, but I might only be speaking for myself there. The idea of a potentially malevolent sentient living and growing inside me is a wing of Hell I’ve never been slightly interested in exploring, thank you very much. In any case, that afternoon in Eden, we stood together in a sunny glade and made ourselves functioning penises.

It was nice to have someone there the first time I attempted to construct my own genitalia. It’s not exactly simple, or intuitive. We exchanged tips as we went along. He gave me an appraisal on my first completed attempt: he said my work was very fine indeed. 

I can tell you that Aziraphale went significantly overboard size-wise in that first iteration. He said he was intimidated by the idea of trying to use it, and wanted something easy to grip onto until he got the hang of it. It was absolutely _huge_. I recommended he bring a wheelbarrow with him if he planned on hauling it out of Eden. But in terms of craft and detail, there’s no denying that it was a thing of beauty. It was as smooth and soft as the finest calf leather.

I didn’t see Aziraphale’s penis again until it was so very difficult to miss it that time in Sodom. 

Now, I’m not saying it was his fault, exactly. But while I was innocently going about my business, lackadaisically tempting people towards evil as per the brief, not thinking about Aziraphale’s penis very much at all, Aziraphale had clearly was thinking about it a great deal. He had apparently made it his mission to refine it. Perfect it, as it were. 

He had reduced its original prodigious magnitude down to more realistic, yet still awfully generous human proportions, and he had added an artfulness to it that took it from a beautiful human penis to a worship-worthy, celestial penis, destined for millennia of representation in art, becoming the origin of much human male insecurity, and in the case of this particular region, a cause of genuine madness. I haven’t asked him very much about what that process of refinement was like, and to what (or to whom) he had been comparing his work in those years, but the end result tells the tale all on its own, suffice it to say. 

When the flimsy bit of fabric fluttered upwards and the people of Sodom got a quick look in (he tells me it was an accident, it having been a breezy, hot day in the market, and he hadn’t been in the mood to wear a loincloth for reasons best known only to Aziraphale himself), the beauty and perfection of it cause an actual riot. 

Every man and woman in the place wanted a go at it. It was mayhem. Lot had to get himself involved, and the solutions he proposed to protect Aziraphale’s John Thomas from the grabby hands of Sodom, and before long, Gomorrah, were far from ideal, as you likely know. 

Wasn’t I supposed to be the one who did all the creative tempting? Not to say I didn’t take credit for the fiasco that followed in a memo to head office, of course, but that’s just prudent project management, as far as I’m concerned. 

Now, keep in mind that neither of us had a good grasp on the concept of human sexuality. We only had the draft version of it to work with, as I’ve explained. I know, for a fact, that Aziraphale hadn’t made himself the world’s most perfect and most overwhelmingly desirable penis in order to tempt anyone with it. He wasn’t trying to woo anyone or win favours. He did it because he always makes things significantly better than they need to be, it’s in his nature. He likes to do a good job of it, whatever he sets himself to. Sometimes there are unanticipated Consequences. 

He toned it down right away (he wasn’t about to give himself an _ugly_ penis, let’s be clear, Aziraphale can’t stand not to cut a fine figure, even if he doesn’t intend anyone to see his handiwork), but it was too late by then. The people were overcome. He felt terrible about that, and of course he wouldn’t let Lot’s poor girls suffer for his mistake. But then Sandalphon came up with his own horrible solution, and honestly I wonder whether The Almighty didn’t deliberately mixed up angels and demons in a few cases, because that was an idea that could only have a Hellish origin. It really just went from bad to worse from there. What a disaster that was.

Head Office gave me my second ever commendation for that one.

So after that, I couldn’t help but be aware of Aziraphale’s penis, and the care he was taking in crafting it. 

I’d gone in a more functional direction, myself. I’d discovered wine well before that point, so the use of the thing was always apparent, and I’d had plenty of opportunity to take inspiration in how natural selection was having its way with the human form. 

Humans like to flaunt their nethers, for some reason. More so in some eras than others, but humans are always getting their kit off in public one way or another. It will happen while drinking, or while pretending to create art, during a revel, by accident while out for a walk somehow, or just for fun. There were always orgies you stumbled into by accident in those days, wall to wall crown jewels and flanges everywhere you’d look, even if you weren’t looking for them. So it wasn’t that hard to see the options and the variety. 

I tried mimicking them all. To be honest with you, while I have a personal preference, it’s not a very strong one, not for what I’ve got on a day to day basis. I don’t feel any great attachment to a specific configuration or dimensions. Whatever the situation calls for, really, I’m happy to adapt. I wouldn’t want to go without a decent undercarriage again, though. I’d feel incomplete.

The fact that I prefer to have organs of generation tells you I was designed to like them. That follows, doesn’t it?

Aziraphale is willing to shift a little bit with the fashion, to a degree. He has a very firm sense of self, always has done, so while he’ll be influenced from time to time, he’ll only go so far. I caught him in Greece without a loincloth again (and I certainly let him have it, though he insisted that he had gone out of his way to make sure that his penis was as plain and innocuous as was reasonable, though by my estimation it was still far prettier than was strictly necessary). I noticed he had reduced its proportion again somewhat, in line with the times. With the Greeks, small penises were all the rage. I had resized everything that needed it in accordance with current tastes, but Aziraphale would only go so far. 

I know he’d dropped the Greek preferences by the time we were kitted out in all that armour, because he complained about, and then ever so subtly adjusted, the proportions of his codpiece while King Arthur was in his prime.

You’ll notice that for Aziraphale, his penis had been an important part of his corporation and his earthly self-identity for quite some time, but it wasn’t hooked up to anything you’d call sexuality. I think that was an obstacle for a long time, not having an absolute understanding of how these things might be read or understood by humans. It was important to him for different reasons.

At the same time, I had been making a study of human sexuality. I didn’t feel the urge to participate in it myself, but I tempted men to engage in all manner of sexual acts with women, with other men, and in one memorable instance, with Hastur, which I have some regrets about. I had tempted women to explore female pleasure on their own, with other women, with groups of other women, and with various miraculously vibrating objects. I’m not saying I invented the vibrator, but assuming I did wouldn’t be off the mark. I introduced it to Queen Victoria towards the end of her reign, and it certainly gave her something else to focus on beyond destroying the happiness of her children. Or world politics, which is how I described it in the memo I wrote afterwards. Lord Beelzebub loved it.

I wondered if, when Aziraphale had licked my wrist, I’d tasted like sulphur to him. He never said. I’ve never asked. I like to think I didn’t, and don’t. I don’t want to know otherwise, frankly.

Pleasure and appetite always came naturally to Aziraphale in a way they didn’t for me. I learned about them through him. He taught me, inadvertently, and once you know that something is possible, you can create the rest through trial, error, and imagination. I’ve always had a very creative mind.

That blissful look on his face that first time with the apple never left me, and watching him consume a meal is always a revelation. He’s the one who got me on the booze, unsurprisingly. I built my own infrastructure of desire through him, by watching him. So I suppose it’s no surprise that my primary desire is for him, and that his pleasure is deeply entangled with mine. Experiencing pleasure on my own while also witnessing his is a dizzying experience, and that’s definitely something I needed the centuries we had to work up to. Ethereal beings, or supernatural ones, whatever terminology you’d like to use, have a lot of senses that can be overwhelmed. It’s a very particular skill set to orchestrate them all at once. 

I believe it was in the early days of Rome that I recognized the lines of how Aziraphale’s desires could develop, if he wanted to develop them. I watched him ogle some nude athletes without, I thought, knowing that he was doing it. It isn’t a far leap from his appreciation of his own perfect penis, to admiring the craft and character of someone else’s, to classic human sexual desire. It became clear not long after that Aziraphale was fully aware of that.

And that’s when I understood what kind of Principality he was, and which group of people he was advising and representing. Which explained a lot about his early advocacy for Abel, by the way. And Enoch. And David and Jonathan, obviously. So by the time he set up shop in Soho, I had no misapprehensions about where Aziraphale’s desires lay, nascent and in draft form as they were. 

You need to understand that angels, and of course demons, have the capacity to understand sexual desire and to act on it, but it isn’t an urgent need the same way that human desires are. I very much enjoy a glass of wine, for instance, but I don’t require any liquid at all. Aziraphale loves sushi, and while contemplating a life without sushi makes him very sad, he doesn’t _need_ sushi. Our pleasures are choices. That doesn’t make them less powerful or meaningful to us. In some ways it makes them more so, given the effort we put into it, the care. But it puts our relationship to desire in context.

I think it puts in context the fact that it took over six thousand years from Aziraphale to go from licking my wrist to so gently taking my hand on a bus from Tadfield. We had to make a lot of choices, and rebuild ourselves many times over, to get to that point. It couldn’t have taken less effort or less time.

It took millennia for Aziraphale to connect his experience of desire and pleasure to sexuality, and to share that with anyone. He knew it was possible, obviously, he knew they _could_ be joined up. He knew as well as I did what would happen the moment he did so. He chose not to, because for once he was thinking about the Consequences, and it’s true they would have been explosive. Catastrophic, no less. Much worse, even, than the riot at Sodom and Gomorrah. It would have torn Heaven asunder once again, and damned him to the lake of fire along with me. It’s a big decision.

The evening he drew the biological line to match the emotional one that had been there for millennia was the day we knew we were on our own, and that we were on own together, and Heaven and Hell had both been torn asunder by our choices. It was the evening he chose to come home with me, the evening he decided to face Hell’s punishment in my place out of love. That was the evening I became the object of his appetite and desire. The crepes could envy me instead of the other way around.

What I didn’t understand then, and what I do understand now, is that Aziraphale was created to be drawn towards me the way I have become through everything we’ve been through, just as I was created to be drawn towards him as he has become. We can only do as we’re created to do. From the very start we were in love with who we would each become.

Does that mean I am unknowingly attracted to truly terrible magic acts? Demons preserve us. I will never, ever understand the silly magic. Do you have any idea how many doves he’s accidentally killed, leaving them up his sleeves the way he does? There are enough resurrected doves to cause a messianic panic in every dovecote in the known universe at this point, and just this morning he pretended to pull a 50p coin out my ear. He is incorrigible.

Not to be a prig about it, but you’ll have noticed there’s a core template to mortal existence that resembles the story I’m telling you. It’s not exactly universal, but it’s fairly close. Adam and Eve were an iconic pairing: humans work in couples to reproduce themselves, even without an epic romance. Naked mole-rats bond in pairs. All the great love stories are about a connection between two souls, exactly two. But I’m pretty certain that Aziraphale and I are the very first. We’re the template. We’re the first lovers ever to exist. We’re the reason the rest of you want, seek, and find love. Ours is the origin of all romance.

How could we be the first? Shakespeare wrote all that love poetry and died hundreds of years before Aziraphale finally put his hand against my cheek the night after the world didn’t end. So many generations of humans lived, loved, and died before we’d even properly touched one another. The majority of human history had played out in front of us before I’d so much as held his hand.

Adam and Eve were the first, surely.

Technically, that’s true. But where do you think She got the idea for them? Where were the first two creatures who loved each other so completely, who were so woven together, that their fated romance would inspire all the rest of them?

When Aziraphale and I were angel dough on The Almighty’s worktop, she knew that he would love me, and that I would love him, and that once we found out who we genuinely are, once we’d shaped ourselves, our bodies, our desires, the way the world, our lives, and our inner selves told us we must, once we broke every rule for each other, we would be exactly what the other would want and love most. We are not surprises; we can’t be. We don’t have free will. We are designed to be as we are, and do as we do.

I don’t want to be maudlin and say we were once one being and God cut us in two in order to entertain Herself, daring us to find each other and join ourselves together once again in spite of the most terrible odds, but something like that. 

And I don’t want to leave the impression that I’m such an egoist that I think the great battle waged in heaven, my own damnation and belly flop into boiling sulphur, my mission to confound and thwart heaven’s plans, Aziraphale’s grace and obedience to the heavenly host, his rejection of my overtures not just once, but twice, all of it, wasn’t designed simply to be a seemingly insurmountable series of obstacles to us finding each other and choosing each other over all others, but I do.

It wouldn’t be such an interesting story if we were both on the same side the whole time, would it? If we were too similar, with no terrible decisions to make in order to choose each other? If we hadn’t had to fundamentally change our own natures, our physical selves, to find each other? It would hardly be a story worth telling it if it had been obvious from the start that we would join forces and create our own space between heaven and hell. It wouldn’t be interesting if we hadn’t had to fight to make the world our own.

And far be it from me to suggest that the Ineffable Plan, the whole, secret purpose of the enterprise, is for Aziraphale and I to defy all odds, rules, and expectations, to make impossible decisions and love one another, and to love and save the world that allowed us to learn how to be who and what we are. But that’s what I believe.


End file.
